Grand Theft Auto: After Vice
by Unconscious
Summary: FINISHED Four years after Tommy Vercetti took over Vice City, an upandcoming hitman for the Leone family is sent down to negotiate a business. What was a simple plan soon escalates into a web of death and deception. Great story, you will love it.
1. Epilogue

**Grand Theft Auto: After Vice**

**Epilogue  
**  
1990  
Liberty City  
The Mafia  
  
The house was dark and quiet. It was late in the year, and the Leone business was beginning to wind down on it's fourth quarter. Salvatore himself, the don, sat in his armchair across the room, as the gentle mist of a cigar floated about. Across from him, sitting haphazardly on a couch, the younger man laid back, brushing his hair back necessantly. His neatly combed hair slicked it's way across the man's head, and reflected an almost blinding amount of light throughout the room.  
  
"Seems this Vercetti guy got quite a business going," Salvatore said.  
  
"Yeah, he's quite the celebrity down there." The younger man replied.  
  
Salvatore was beginning to get old. The once spriteful and ambitious leader of the Leone family had already received his obligatory gray hairs, and the effects of his repetitious smoking began to creep up on him.  
  
"After all, he did take care of some of that Forrelli business for us"  
  
The younger man was Sal's complete oppsosite. Instead of crisp, knowledgeable and wise, the younger man was more of a go-getter. He'd served as the big man's enforcer for two years now, and before that had worked minor jobs for his associates. He noticed Salvatore seemed to be going somewhere, and the younger man's dark eyes beseeched.  
  
"Look, I gotta ask you a favor," He finally said. "You know that I don't want this to turn out like Vercetti did with the Forrellis,"  
  
"Don't worry, I'll always be loyal to you, Sal." The young man cut in.  
  
"I know that, but ol' Sonny thought that too about Tommy."  
  
"You can trust me."  
  
"Well, Vercetti got a pretty big protection and drug business going on. The family, you know, they want some of it. . ."  
  
"Just be careful, Kevin." Salvatore seemed genuinely fearful.  
  
Kevin stepped up from the couch, and stretched his back out a bit.  
  
"How much you giving me for it?" He said sternly.  
  
"Believe me, at the end of all this, you will be a made man."  
  
Kevin sat in his house in St. Mark's, and listened as the voice on the other line of his phone spoke speedily.  
  
"Oh come on, man!" He said in a thick Spanish accent.  
  
Kevin's crime-partner Miguel, which he had done numerous jobs with, had always tagged along with him whenever adventured was abound.  
  
"Don't leave me here in this place! While you're having fun in Vice City, I'll be washing the ice off my windshield!"  
  
"Look, Miguel, I just don't think it's that big of a deal." Kevin replied. "I'm just going down there, talking to Vercetti, and coming back, that's it."  
  
"I don't care, just let me come!"  
  
"Fine, alright, I'll talk to Sal about it."  
  
Kevin pulled the phone away from his ears as Miguel shouted in joy. Deep down, Kevin knew Miguel should not come, for what was in store for them down south was not at all what either of them expected.  
  
The next day, the two men sat drove through the city in a Manana, as Francis International Airport loomed ahead. Kevin drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, in nervousness. What he had told Miguel about Vice City was a complete lie. But nonetheless, he sat in the passenger seat as they both pulled into the terminal of the airport. Within a few minutes, they were both heading for the gate, when Kevin's cellphone rang abruptly.  
  
On the other line, a slightly shaky and nervous Salvatore spoke.  
  
"Please, Kevin, all I want is for this all to work out, okay? Do what you gotta do, but in the end, work everything out."  
  
He hung up just as fast as he called, and left Kevin to his own thoughts. He caught back up with Miguel, and found their plane's gate.   
  
"Here you are Mr. Restino and Mr. Hernandéz," the ticket-collector said.   
  
The two men got aboard the plane, and headed for a flight directly towards their ultimate demise. On the plane, Kevinwas deep in thought.  
  
"So how's Sarah been?" Miguel asked.  
  
Kevin sighed. "I guess she's alright, I haven't seen them for a few days now; been busy."   
  
"What about the kids?"  
  
"They're are doing great, what's with all the questions?"  
  
"Dude. We're stuck on a plane for a few hours and I can't even ask you a few questions?"  
  
Kevin sighed, and rubbed his forehead like he usually did.   
  
"So how good are the Mambas anyway?" Miguel insisted.   
  
"Look, I'd like to get some sleep right now, alright?"  
  
Miguel sat quietly, and took a drink from his beverage. Kevin turned his head the other way, and closed his eyes. He dreamed almost instantly, and images of his children, wife, and his overall happy life flashed before him. Almost moments later, the plane touched down, startling Kevin awake. The two men subtly stepped out from the plane, and entered Escobar International Airport's terminal.   
  
"You know, Vice City is a pretty hot place, you gonna keep wearing that jacket?" Miguel said.  
  
Miguel was speaking of the black leather aviator coat that he wore just about everyday. Kevin glared at him, and said no more. The jacket was originally gift from his wife, before they were married, and he treasured it at every moment. Throughout his life, Kevin never imagined he could've been able to find such love, and when he actually did, he felt that some kind of a miracle had happened. He never wanted his wife or children's love to diminish, so he wore the coat. The two reached the main doors, and they both exited.   
  
Outside, along the road, a single silver Phoenix sat with the engine running, and from inside a slick-suited man with curly hair got out and greeted the two.  
  
"Heh-hey, you're the guys from Liberty City, right?"  
  
The two nodded, and handed the curly-haired man their luggage.  
  
"I'm Ken Rosenberg, and I'll be your guy while you're down here in Vice City,"  
  
"So uh, if you ever need anything, I'm the guy to ask!"  
  
The three squished inside the car, and quickly drove off.  
  
As Kevin sat in the back, twiddling his thumbs while watching the scenery float by, Rosenberg couldn't help but to comment on him.  
  
"You know, you're going to see the 'big' guy in Vice City . . ."  
  
"Yeah, what's your point?"  
  
"Well, I miss 1973, too, but this isn't going to be any beer and stripper's club."  
  
Rosenberg slowly scanned the man's grimy pants, and his worn aviator jacket. He sighed slowly, realizing the man wouldn't give in, and turned his attention to the road. Without warning, Kevin saw Rosenberg reach in the glove compartment, and withdraw a sleek Glock pistol. A menacing appearance draped his face, and he grimly chambered around. He rolled the window down on the driver's side door, and put his body out into the open air. Miguel quickly held the wheel and continued steering. Ken aimed the pistol towards the rear of the car.  
  
"This guy's been following us since the airport." He said.  
  
Kevin looked and saw a beat up Bobcat apparently trying to follow them by dragging itself behind, the driver showing a distraught look. The moment he saw Ken's pistol appear, he began veering on and off the road. Rosenberg began firing repetitiously, blasting sonic holes throughout the air. Kevin looked behind and saw the driver apparently did not want to cause trouble, and repeatedly raised his hands up in surrender behind the windshield. Rosenberg quickly took back the wheel and steered the Phoenix off the road and into a side alley.  
  
The Bobcat followed quickly behind, and stopped at the moment Rosenberg did. Ken reached into the glove compartment once more, withdrew two Ingram Mac 10s, and handed them to Miguel and Kevin.   
  
"Kevin, I want you to go and check the driver out, me and Miguel will cover you." Rosenberg ordered.  
  
He heard Ken mumble something about the Feds as he got his new weapon ready, and he stepped out of the car prepared to use his new found gun. Slapping the door shut behind him, he cautiously approached the Bobcat, as the driver shook his head as though frustrated.  
  
"Did he have to blow my windshield out?" He said in a nagging voice.  
  
Kevin pointed the machine gun against his sweaty forehead, pulled him out of the car and threw him to the ground.   
  
"What the hell do you want?" He demanded.  
  
The man, apparently small and scrawny, was dressed in the cheezy '80s 'rebel' attire. His long blonde hair was streaked with dirt, and he was apparently down and out of some good times he had experienced long ago. The man got to his feet, slicked his hair with his hands, and began to speak.  
  
"Look, do you recognize me?" He said.  
  
Kevin stood, holding the machine gun to his head.  
  
"Oh come on, I was on Channel 6 news last night! About the rock concert?"  
  
Kevin sighed.  
  
"I'm Lazlow! Heavy metal DJ? I know that Rosenberg is with Vercetti, I needed some stuff done."  
  
"Look, I'm not from around here, so are you getting anywhere?"  
  
"Here, just take my card, and come over to my place whenever you have some time. I need some help with stuff."  
  
Lazlow handed Kevin a sheet of notebook paper with words scrawled on it and jumped back into his Bobcat. The truck quickly screeched off and disappeared into the distance. Kevin put the gun back down, and headed back to the Phoenix.   
  
"What the hell did he want?" Roseneberg shouted.  
  
"He was just interested in some business, that's all."  
  
Ken shrugged it off, thinking he was in too big a business to worry, and allowed Kevin to get back into the car.   
  
"You know, Mr. V will not be pleased with how late we are."


	2. Tense Greeting

At the other end of the city, a group of men stood as glistening weapons crisply shone in the afternoon sun. They were inside a large abandoned warehoue which once used for ship construction. The gentle sounds of seagulls chirping and waves breaking filled the echoing area as the various people stood about. They were all dressed in apparently the same way; cut-up denim jackets, headbands, styled hair, and rolled-up semi-tight jeans. Their bottom-of-the-barrel Adidas shoes squeaked insistently with every movement of their feet. They were the Sharks, but everyone knew them as the Streetwannabes.  
  
Their leader, who stood in the center, wore a massive crown of primped hair, adorned fluently with streaky dirt. His maroon tank top fit so snugly that his large pectoral muscles rippled like the waves rolling behind them. He wore a rusted watch on his wrist, and he checked it firmly once again.  
  
"Alright, according to our insiders, this new guy should meet Vercetti at 5 o'clock." His watch read 3:46, and he tapped on it demandingly.  
  
"That means that we head out now, and we head out determined."  
  
As the gang cheered and loaded up their weapons, a single member stood wary. Greg was his name, and he was the newest recruit to the Sharks. After his older brother and only guardian, Dylan, was killed while defending the Shark's leader, Greg was instantly took in. His hair was caked in spray, and he was completely unaware he could easily slice a cinder block in two with the massive pillow of hair that sat on top of him.   
  
Before he could snort the snot that was falling out of his nostril back in, a gang member grabbed him from behind, slapped him with an Tec-9, and ushered him across the deck. The leader of the Sharks stood proudly wielding an M-16, and he hustled himself along as his apparent girlfriend followed close behind.   
  
Greg, sitting fearfully in the backseat of a Cuban Jetmax, desperately tried to avoid even looking at the weapon he held. The leader and his girlfriend hopped in and sat across from him, and the pilot of the boat quickly sped off. Four Jetmaxes in all sped out from that warehouse, and little did they know what awaited ahead.  
  
Rosenberg pulled the car up to the main park road, and put the car across from the main stairwell entrance. Kevin was moments from heading up the stairs, when Ken instructed him to head around the back. Miguel and Kevin both headed across the side lawn of the mansion, as Rosenberg showed them the correct path. As Rosenberg strutted across the grass, heading towards the main garden, Kevin pulled Miguel over to him, and began to speak.  
  
"Look, I should've told you this before, but --"  
  
Without warning, three men armed with Uzis and dressed in crisp Hawaiian shirts and polo slacks approached the two. After forcefully frisking them, they allowed them to enter the back garden. From here, a beautiful view of the bay and the two surrounding islands encompassed them, and the sun gently reflected off the immeasurable water. Vercetti Estate was the centerpiece of Starfish Island. Vice City itself consisted of the mainland city, and the rest of the city coninued on an island across the bay connected via causeways/ In the middle of these two sections Starfish Island sat connected to the rest of the city via two bridges. The island mainly consisted of the more fortunate citizens of the city and Vercetti Estate sat at the helm of the area  
  
Foilage and pools lined the area, and a delightful cozy setting shone out brightly. Across from them, the massive mansion stood boldly, as beams of light shattered onto the windows and snapped back outwards in a dazzling reflection.   
  
Kevin looked and saw three more armed men suddenly step out from the main exit, and with them Mr. Vercetti trailed. His hair slicked back beautifully, and Kevin found himself surprised at how little hairspray he had to use. His pink pin-striped black suit jacket waved softly in the ocean breeze, and his ruffled pink shirt bristled with expensivity.   
  
Vercetti pushed the men aside, and stood across from Kevin. Vercetti himself seemed surprised when he found how tall the new guy was. He was almost six inches taller than him, and the new man appeared not to notice. Vercetti grinned, and flapped around with the numerous pockets on Kevin's jacket.  
  
"We need to get you some new clothes," He finally said.  
  
"Yesiree, those Cubans sure know how to make a boat." The leader of the Sharks said.  
  
Greg sat across from him, as he tried to wipe the moisture off from his hands. The water splashed itself about as the four boats soared through the water. Up ahead, their destination lie, waiting.  
  
"You're the new guy, right?" He said.  
  
Greg shook his head, shakily. The leader smiled, and put his M-16 down on the seat. His girlfriend smiled as he gently brushed his hand through her dark long hair.  
  
"You like Colombian women?" He said.  
  
His woman crawled across the boat, and sat next to Greg. She softly made a purring sound in his ear, and stroked his chest vigorously.  
  
"How 'bout cats? You like cats?"  
  
The leader apparently saw that his girlfriend was enjoying Greg, and quickly pulled her away. The woman of apparent Colombian descent giggled, and leaned back against the seat. The leader put his hand out, and shook Greg's hand firmly.  
  
"I'm Cameron, and you are?"  
  
Kevin pushed Vercetti's suntanned hand away, and cut his finger against his highly reflective gold watch. Vercetti smiled, and slowly slid his gold sunglasses on. Vercetti ushered one of his goons over, and obtained a set of brass knuckles from him. He casually slipped them on, and went on to punch Kevin forcefully in the jaw.   
  
Blood sprayed, and Kevin fell hard onto the grass below. Miguel pulled out his Beretta, and pointed it at Vercetti's head. Instantaneously, the men surrounding them pulled their weapons out, as well as hundreds of other men within the house and on the roof wielded rifles from above. Miguel choked, and slowly put his gun away.   
  
"You don't touch me, unless I tell you to," Vercetti commanded to Kevin.  
  
He slowly stood back up, nursing his jaw, and found himself spitting out gobs of thick blood. He grinned, and shrugged the entire incident off. Vercetti snickered, put his arm around Kevin's shoulder, and began walking with him through his back yard. 


	3. Island Assault

"Greg, I'm Dylan's brother."  
  
"Ah yes, Dylan I reme-- Cat, come on."  
  
His girlfriend had completely saddled him, and began vigorously kissing his face. When he finally pulled her off from him, his face was soaked with saliva.  
  
"Yeah, I remember Dylan. He was a good guy."  
  
Greg smiled, and found himself more comforted in being with Cameron. The leader sat back in his seat, made sure his hair didn't get ruined, and stretched his back out. To Greg, Cameron seemed to be pushing thirty almost, and in just the few short moments he'd been with him, he was the most of a father he'd ever had.  
  
"Hey, Catalina, get over here."  
  
The Colombian woman smiled, and straddled Cameron once again and began kissing him as before.  
  
Up ahead, Starfish Island loomed closer.   
  
Vercetti and his fellow minions sat in the back garden of his estate, discussing business.  
  
"So you're here to discuss business, is that right?" Vercetti said.  
  
"Yeah, Salvatore Leone is prepared to merge your family, if you will, for the better profit." Kevin replied.  
  
"We're almost a country apart, Sal and I, it's a bit of stretch, don't you think?" Vercetti sipped on a lime green beverage.  
  
"Leone believes if you would join, you would be a definitive force in your area, and possibly the country."  
  
"Ha, I'm sure Sal told scripted all of this, is that right?"  
  
"He only wants the best for both of us."  
  
"Well, we rake in about seven million a month, so that equals abo--" Vercetti's voice trailed off.  
  
He pushed Kevin aside, and withdrew two Colt Pythons and held them in both hands. In the distance on the water, he saw the four boats quickly approaching.   
  
"Those Sharks are attacking again!!" He shouted.  
  
Before Kevin could realize what was happening, shots began ringing out.   
  
Cameron stood up on the boat, held his M-16 high, pushed Catalina to the side, and began firing.  
  
"Let's do this!!" He shouted sadistically.  
  
Up ahead, the men on the boats firing back and forth with Vercetti's soldiers, and an intense battle ensued. Greg looked to his side and saw the Tec-9. He fearfully held it in his grasp, and began firing small potshots while hiding behind Cameron.   
  
He blasted about, until to his surpise, he hit someone. It was a one-in-a-million shot, but he managed to shoot a man on the mansion's roof in the abdomen, and he plummeted to his death onto the ground below.   
  
"Nice shot, kid." Cameron commented.  
  
Greg wiped a tear from his eyes, and continued firing.  
  
Kevin quickly took out his tried and true Colt .45, and began shooting back at the boats. The four water vehicles passed by the island blasting away, and then turned around to make another pass. Kevin crouched behind a tree, and expertly fired away three shots. One of them hit a man in the neck, and he toppled over backwards.   
  
Greg cowered from the gunfire, and found himself shouting in horror when he saw a man on one of the other boats get hit. A bullet smashed into his neck, and, in seemingly slow motion, he fell backwards. But his foot got caught in the framework on the surface of the boat, so he didn't fall completely into the water. Instead, he fell backwards, and his head went straight into the boat's motor, and a tidal wave of blood and human shrapnel soared into the air. Cameron smiled in fury, and fired away at the men on the island.  
  
Vercetti, sitting behind a concrete post and reloading his Colt Python, caught a glimpse of a familiar man.   
  
"It's Cameron."  
  
The Shark's leader triumphantly soared across the water in the boat and fired with his M-16. Kevin suddenly appeared next to Vercetti, and sat down next to him and reloaded his pistol.   
  
"Who are those guys?" He asked.  
  
"Just some thugs that I caused some trouble with back in the day. They're apparently jealous at how successful I've become."  
  
Vercetti finished with his gun and began firing back at the boats. The water crafts circling the island like sharks, their occupants firing away at Vercetti's men. Tommy suddenly ran out in the open garden, and grabbed a large flower pot. Before the Sharks could realize what he was doing, he threw it into the air, and it smashed directly on the head of a passing boat's pilot. He became dazed, and the boat began spinning out of control. Within a few moments, it crashed into another boat, and the ensuing massive explosion sent huge waves rippling through the air. Vercetti was thrown onto his back from the force, and quickly stood back up to retaliate.  
  
The remaining two boats soared around the island, their flurry of bullets sprayed into everything. Cameron continued dilligantly blasting men to their grisly fates, but no matter what he did couldn't manage to hit Vercetti. Kevin stood on the edge of the island, and began firing at one of the quickly approaching boats.  
  
In a sick dance of death, Kevin stood at the edge of the island, as the boat careened directly towards him. The driver fired away at Kevin with his Ingram Mac 10, and took his attention off of the water. A moment later, the boat smashed into the partly submerged wreckage of the other boats, and it soared into the air and flipped sickeningly. When it finally hit the water, it sat upside down, and it's passengers lie trapped underneath. Kevin aimed his .45. He fired a single shot, and it smashed into the boat's gas tank, sending a magnificent fireball hurtling into the air and sending chunks of burning metal flying like gruesome birds.   
  
Cameron's boat, seeing all the others destroyed, quickly managed to turn around and began speeding away.  
  
Cameron screamed at the top of his lungs in frustration on the boat as they escaped from Vercetti Estate. The sun beat down on the battered and defeated gang members,   
  
He fired his M-16 into the air angrily, and Catalina covered her ears in frustration. As the boat sped off from the island and Vercetti's mansion, Greg found himself occupied with an idea.  
  
"Hey, Cameron." He fearfully said.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"I was thinking about that new guy that Vercetti got."  
  
"He's from the Leone family, right?" Greg assumed.  
  
"Yeah, I think."  
  
"The Leones have been mad at Vercetti's success ever since he took out Sonny, right?"   
  
"Yeah, and?"  
  
"Well, he is a representative for one of a pretty big family up there in Liberty."  
  
"Yeah, probably."  
  
"Well I'm just saying, if you ever needed some help or whatnot, if you want to take Vercetti out, maybe he could help. "  
  
"I don't think that guy is here for business." Greg started.  
  
"But if he's here for business with Vercetti, why would he go against him suddenly with us?"  
  
"Hey, he'd never have to know he'd be going help us against V." 


	4. True Objective

The men at Vercetti Estate slowly returned to their normal form, and began picking up the bodies of their fallen comrades. Miguel slowly climbed out from behind a cinderblock wall, and hullaballooly put his pistol back.   
  
"So that's a normal day in your life?" Kevin asked grimly.  
  
Without warning, Vercetti grabbed Kevin by his arm, and stared sharply into his eyes.  
  
"No one can touch me. And I mean no one."  
  
Kevin tore his arm from his grasp, and said nothing. He headed over and regrouped with Miguel. As the burning boats slowly sank and found their graves at the bottom of the bay, the sun began to be devoured by the sea. In seemingly a short time, blackness enveloped the sky, and nighttime encompassed the city.   
  
Kevin and Miguel were given a room on the second floor, of which had a lucious view of the mainland. Miguel sat on the top bunk bed, and was quietly cleaning his gun, humbled from the afternoon's incident. Kevin lie quietly on the bottom, and watched as the security camera across from his slowly panned it's way, watching infinitely. Their dorky bunk bed sat in the corner of a mainly featureless room. For some reason, in that moment when he lie on the soft mattress, and listened to the gulls soar by, he felt scared.   
  
His children and wife lie dormant at his home back in Liberty, assuming their husband and father were on a business trip. The only comforting thought he could get was that he actually was on a business trip, though a different kind. It had been a week and a half since he was last able to see his children. He had been so busy, that they had fluttered into nothing and he almost forgot what they looked like.   
  
Jamie, who was the oldest at 4 years, had completely shunned her father out from her life. Ashley and Jake, both were younger than 2 years, and hadn't completely grasped the fact that their father didn't pay homage to them. Their mother, however understood the most.   
  
Every night that Kevin came home, caked in blood that he tried his best to clean, she had kept a strong face and desperately tried to convince the kids as well as herself that he was in a simple accident at work. As Kevin fought back tears when he openly lied to her face, she found herself crying herself to sleep each night.   
  
The most haunting of these was the third job Kevin had to perform for Salvatore. Apparently a husband and wife had witnessed one of the family's crimes, and they knew too much information. A night before they could head back to a police station, Kevin broke into their house, executed the two with a machine gun, and then, to conserve ammunition, he strangled their two infants with his bare hands. During the entire ordeal, everytime he looked at the woman, he saw his wife's gleaming face.   
  
Now, two years after that event, the image of that woman's bullet-riddled body still tormented his thoughts. He knew that his behavior in his earlier years would cost him. He tried to tell himself joining the Mafia would set him on his way in life, tried to tell himself it would take him somewhere in life. But that was long gone now. Once you'd joined the Leone family, you wouldn't leave. Miguel's cleaning rod fell from his bunk, and it startled Kevin from his thoughts.  
  
"Can you get that for me, my man?" He said.  
  
Kevin wearily reached over, grabbed the rod and placed it into his hands. Kevin noticed there were no apparent microphones in the camera, so he knew this was his best chance to tell Miguel.  
  
"Hey, Mig," Kevin said, too tired to fully say his name.  
  
Miguel, trying to be attentive as possible, leaned over the side of his bed, and looked down to him. Kevin lie on his back, his exposed black T-shirt made him seem like a new person without his usual jacket on.   
  
"What's happening?" He said.  
  
"Look, I didn't want you to come down here in the first place, remember? So don't get mad at me." Kevin sighed, preparing to speak.  
  
"Yeah, so what's your point?  
  
"We're not down here to talk business with Vercetti."  
  
"Well what are we here for? Harvest his brocolli fields?"  
  
Miguel giggled in his usual thick-Spanish laugh. Kevin scanned the nearby hallway, noting no one was on patrol.  
  
"We're here to kill him, will you stop laughing?"  
  
Miguel's laughter quickly subsided, and his facial expressions warped into concern.  
  
"What the hell are you saying?"  
  
"Apparently Salvatore is jealous at Vercetti, he doesn't like the money he's making. Ever since killing Sonny, and disrupting the family's balance, he's been laughing in their face."  
  
"But Vercetti's making milions, why wouldn't they want to work with him?" Miguel snapped.  
  
"Sal's giant ego doesn't want there to be anyone else in the country bigger than his family."  
  
"Man, why did you get me into this??" Miguel hissed in his Spanishicity.  
  
"Hey, you're the one who didn't want to wash the ice off your windshield. Vercetti has way too many men around, we can't do anything until he gets open."  
  
"So what are we going to do?"   
  
"I was thinking of going over to some guy, he proposed a business opportunity, he might be able to help."  
  
Kevin flipped the card around in his fingers that Lazlow had given him before. 


	5. Fourth Carjack

Under the cover of darkness, the boats returned to the docks and moored their boats. Cameron, furious with frustration, leapt from the vehicle and tossed his M-16 onto a nearby table. Greg rubbed his tear-streaken face, and roamed himself about on the hard concrete of the warehouse. Throughout the room, men lie sleeping on makeshift beds. This warehouse was the last of the Shark's residences. Vercetti had led a horrific rampage and had destroyed every Shark safehouse in the city. Back then, the Sharks were the biggest gang in Vice City. That is, until Tommy came. Those still loyal to the Shark cause were left to live inside the warehouse, and waste their lives away planning one day to finish Vercetti off.   
  
"That's the fourth time you all screwed up!!" Cameron shouted.  
  
He grabbed Catalina by her silky soft hair and began ravenously kissing her with his damp tongue. Greg sighed, and headed over to his own bed. Having finished with Cat, Cameron tossed her aside, and headed into one of the derelict office rooms in the corner of the building. Catalina smiled, and headed over to Greg, walking as sultry as possible.   
  
Greg lie on his back, staring at the rafters above, when suddenly he felt a warm feminine hand brush his cheek, still moist with tears. He looked and saw Catalina sitting across from him, with the typical devilish smirk across her face.   
  
The new morning had broken, bringing Miguel to an early awakening. The sun's harsh beams stabbed themselves into the room, and the two of them slowly rose from their bunk beds. From aloft, the sounds of men shouting fills the air. Kevin rose from the mattress, and peeked outside. From there, he could see Vercetti, dressed in his typical hi-fashion clothing, climbing into a high performance Stretch, and then drive off from the island.   
  
"Must be too busy with his own stuff to bother with us," Miguel assumed.  
  
Without warning, a man appeared at the door, dressed in a sleek bright purple suit. His eyes, hidden behind his fogged sunglasses, stabbed themselves towards the two.   
  
"Vercetti got you two your own place, it's on Ocean Drive; the Tropic Hotel." The man gruffed.  
  
"He's out on some business, and he wants you to get out of his house. He'll start talking business tomorrow, if he's not busy. He'll call you."  
  
The man disappeared from the room, and left Kevin and Miguel to pack their own things. Within a short moment, with their short amount of belongings together, the two got themselves a taxi and were driven out to the Tropic Hotel.  
  
"Alright, you can go inside and check the place out, I'm going to go over to a contact." Miguel sighed and hoisted the luggage into his arms.  
  
He whimpered, held both Kevin and his own's luggage, and headed inside. Before Kevin could go and visit Lazlow, he knew he needed to get his own ride. And that left him with only one path to obtain it -- carjacking.  
  
With Miguel safely inside the hotel, he grasped his .45 from underneath his jacket firmly, and quietly undid the safety. He walked down the sunbleached sidewalk, watching as each of the pedestrians calmly brushed passed him. Within moments, he arrived to the entrance of a small one way street in between two buildings. From the one end, he glimpsed the image of a Regina moseying itself on down the road. He jogged his way down the street, withdrew his pistol, and waved it menacingly towards the driver.  
  
Cautiously, the driver stepped from the car, graciously closing the door behind him. This wasn't the first time Kevin had carjacked someone. In fact, he believed it was the fourth time. He was sometimes surprised, two years of working for the biggest Mafia family in Liberty City, he had only carjacked someone four times. The driver stood warily, and gave out only a slight muffled grunt when Kevin snapped his neck sharply. After disposing of the corpse in a nearby dumpster, he covered the license plate with a thin layer of disorienting mud, and drove off.  
  
After a half hour of being lost in the vast city of Vice, he managed to find himself parked at the foot of the VRock Station Headquarters. Anchored onto it's roof, the station's massive call letters gleamed in the mid morning sun. He pushed open the swivel doors, scaled a short accumulation of steps, and was centered inside the studio itself. The card Lazlow had given him before read that he was located in studio 7, which was high on the third floor.  
  
LAZLOW - DJ.  
  
The sign on the door spoke volumes. It was pristine in quality, with high varnish plasticized wood flashing itself like a light bulb in a snowstorm. Kevin creaked the door open and peeked inside. Within, a single man sat at in the control booth, a microphone in front of him and dense layers of leather surrounding him. Kevin walked into the room, circled the circular booth the man sat in, and waited patiently. 


	6. First Mission

The man at the microphone looked up as he listened to the blasting music, and was quick to notice Kevin standing in the dense lights. Through the sound proof glass, Kevin saw him gasp in surprise, then quickly take his headphones off and leave the booth and entered the same room as Kevin.   
  
"Well, I'm surprised you decided to come." Lazlow said.  
  
Kevin went to shake his hand, but Lazlow completely ignored the greeting. Lazlow slicked his long blonde hair down a bit, then coughed into his fist nervously.   
  
"So are you willing to do some stuff for me?" He said.  
  
Kevin nodded, and without warning Lazlow grabbed him, pulled him into the control booth and closed the door behind him.   
  
"There, no one will hear us behind the glass."  
  
"So what do you want me to do?" Kevin said.  
  
"Wait, let me make sure. You are the Leone hitman from Liberty City, right?"  
  
"Well, I'm not exactly a hitman, and I'm not a Leo--."  
  
"Dude, are you the guy from Liberty City?"  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"Alright, I just had to get that out of the way. Can't be too sure, you know."  
  
Kevin sighed. "Yeah, I know."  
  
"Well, you see, the manager of the station, Glenn, has been laundering some high profile money--"  
  
"What? A radio station manger? Where can he get that kind of money?"  
  
"I don't know, he's some Spanish dude. Affirmative action, you know."  
  
"Yeah, alright."  
  
"Anyways, he's been doing it through this new gang."  
  
"What gang is that?" Kevin said, suspecting Vercetti.  
  
"I dunno, I think they're from Colombia, some kind of card gang, but don't hold me to it."  
  
Kevin sat back in the soft pleather chair, and crossed his arms, annoyed.  
  
"Alright, whatever, anyway, I haven't been very up on my luck, if you catch my drift. My contact in their gang has helped to steal some of the laundered money."  
  
"Now, I don't want to tell you where the money may be, you know. So my contact will meet you out front. Her name's Catalina."  
  
Kevin looked through the window and saw a sleek white car sitting on the curb outside of the studio.  
  
"Is that her?" He asked.  
  
"Yeah, she wants to make absolutely sure I get someone to do this, so she parked herself out there. I think she's a bit paranoid, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Where do you find these people?"   
  
"Hey, I'm a rock station DJ, alright? I'm a celebrity. I can't be out stealing laundered money, so it makes sense to get someone to do it for you. That's a classic example of an idiosyncrasy."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Look, just do this for me I'll give you a reasonable percentage of the cash."   
  
Kevin stood and left the room, leaving Lazlow to his airwaves. As the door shut and he left, Lazlow turned back to his desk and went to turn the microphone back on to announce the next song. He then realized that he had left it on the entire time.  
  
Exiting the studio, Kevin brushed his hair through his finely tuned hair, and headed over towards white Rumpo van sitting across the street. Without warning, the door slid open, and he was pulled inside. A hood was shoved over his head, and he could feel someone holding him down in the back of the van.  
  
Moments later, blinding light flashed itself back into his dark-adjusted eyes. The hood was pulled from his head, and he realized he was still sitting in the back of the van. He was forcefully pulled out of the car by two soft caressing hands, and thrown onto the ground. He slowly stood to his feet, and gained his bearings together. They were somewhere in Vice Port, a tanker ship loomed nearby to the east.  
  
He blinked his eyes a few times, and realized he was staring into the face of an amazingly beautiful woman. Her dark skin reflected a Hispanic tone, and from her accent he guessed South American.  
  
"Hey, you're the woman on the boat. Yesterday, at Starfish Island."  
  
"You want to get dead? Just get your money and be happy." Catalina replied.  
  
"So you're in this Colombian gan—"  
  
"It's a drug cartel, not a gang."  
  
"Right, and at the same time you're with those Sharks?"  
  
"Hey, I gotta get by somehow. You'd be surprised how loose those Sharks are with money as soon as they see a woman for the first time in two years."  
  
"You criminals down here are pretty organized, I must say."  
  
"You are the guy for Lazlow now, right?"  
  
"Yeah, do you have the money?"  
  
"I figured that dork wouldn't tell you . . ."  
  
She sighed, and began tapping her foot against the pavement annoyingly.  
  
"Tell me what?"  
  
She sighed. "So we got finished stealing the money, right? And we're making the trip to the original contact point,"  
  
"Those amateur Cubans came out of nowhere, shot up our ride, killed a lot of men."  
  
"You don't have the money?" Kevin said, shocked. "What the hell kind of organization are you? First you steal the money from your own gang, then it's stolen from you by a bunch of Cubans??"  
  
Catalina forcefully grabbed Kevin by the collar, and threw him up against the side of the van. He felt it dent behind his back, and tried to fight back. He was surprised such a young girl had such strength.  
  
"You better watch your mouth, boy. You screw around with me and you'll get Sharks and a Colombian Cartel on you."  
  
Catalina's hissing demeanor slowly faded, and she abruptly kissed him strongly. She let then go of him and acted as if it never happened. Kevin knew Catalina was dealing in trouble larger than she could handle, working in two gangs. But from past experiences, she could apparently handle herself well.   
  
"Well where are the Cubans now?" He said.  
  
"So predictable, they probably ran off with the money back to their leader, Umberto."  
  
"Well what are you waiting for," Kevin took his .45 out and chambered a round.  
  
"Let's get the money." 


	7. His Past

Lazlow sat in his chair, the microphone stared back, dauntingly. The green light indicating the mic had been on glared deafeningly, and he felt the cold chill of a tear slowly drip down his face. He drummed his fingers harshly against the desk, knowing the listeners on the other end were hearing nothing. He quickly slapped a new record on, and picked up his phone. Stricken with frustration and anger, he called the best person he knew. His face, covered with sweat and fear, caused his voice to tremble with each syllable.  
  
"You'll pay me what!?" The voice on the other end shouted.  
  
"Look, just make sure he doesn't talk, okay? I'm in enough trouble as it is."  
  
"And where's this mush gonna be at?"   
  
"There's two contact points,"  
  
"The first is in front of the the Moist Palms Hotel."  
  
"If he ain't there, then he'll be at the secondary point, the alley across from the tanker barge."  
  
"You better hurry, they won't be there forever."  
  
"Don't worry, as long as the money's good, love, we'll make a killing! By the way, I love your show!" The British voice hung up.  
  
Lazlow hung the phone up, sat back in his chair, rubbed his eyes, and began packing all the belongings of his in the room. He only had a short time before his superiors came to check on him inside the studio.   
  
Catalina climbed into the driver side seat of the car, as Kevin got into the passenger side. With only two other hired guns to help them, it would be quite a match against the Cubans. Catalina leaned forward, and in a ridiculously sexual manner, popped the glove compartment open. She slowly reached inside and took out a Desert Eagle pistol, and smiled towards Kevin. The dented door of the Rumpo slammed shut, and the van quickly drove off. Just behind them, however, a bright pink Virgo followed closely behind.  
  
"Like bloody clockwork." It's driver murmured.  
  
The van cruised down the endless road, as Catalina explained the previous events to Kevin.  
  
"You see, Glenn's little scheme would take the money from VRock's headquarters and would be taken to an abandoned docking bay in Vice Port."  
  
"And so you and members of the Sharks stole the money from your other gang, the Cartel, right?"  
  
"Right. You make it sound like it's bad to be working two sides."  
  
"I just thought it was creative."   
  
Catalina looked over at Kevin, smiling.  
  
The van slid it's way down the streets, allowing the sun to beautifully shine it's rays off from it's surface. Up haead the vast network of cranes, barges and other shipping equipment stood high in Vice Port. The industrial hub of the city sat at the southern edge of the mainland.   
  
"So where are you from?" Kevin asked.  
  
"A town called Neiva." Catalina replied, concentrating on the road.  
  
"So when did you come to the US?"   
  
"When I was much younger, I always admired this one big buyer. He'd come to Colombia every year or so, and take his cocaine back to the US. And so one time, I left my home, and left with this giant of a drug dealer."  
  
"So what happened to him? Sounds like you could've had a nice life."  
  
"He didn't treat me right . . . they never me treated me right."  
  
Kevin sat uncomfortable in the plush seat, not knowing what to say.  
  
"So how about you, Mr. Kevin?" She snickered.  
  
"Where am I from, you mean?"  
  
"What do you think I meant?"  
  
"Oh, well, I was born in San Andreas, but when I was 4 my mom and dad were, uh,"  
  
The car whacked into a pothole. Sudden images of gunshots and human screaming flashed in Kevin's memory.  
  
"What happened to them, tell me." He could tell Catalina was overcome with curiosity.  
  
"I remember I always trusted my dad. Me and him always got along fine."  
  
Kevin rubbed his face through his hands. He knew he didn't want to tell her. The images of his dad being drunk one night rippled in his mind. He wanted to believe that his dad was just like all the others, a warm loving man. But he always knew otherwise. Even though he knew he took drugs, knew he'd been arrested often, he tried desperately to believe he was a regular guy that loved his son. But that changed the night he came home, beat his mother to death and then took his own life. He realized that the life he had imagined to be normal had gone away as he sat on his couch, his mother and father's dead bodies lying on the floor.  
  
"Then one day, the guy I thought I trusted and loved the most came home one night. . ." He sighed. "Just like that, you know?"  
  
"I'm sorry." Catalina said.  
  
"I'm alright." Kevin looked outside, saw the gentle water bouncing to the current of the wind.  
  
"I just ran away from everyone you know? Everyone I used to trust. I got involved in some gangs and at one point I ended up here."  
  
Catalina reached over with her supple tender hand and rubbed the tears gently from his eyes. She looked rubbed his head calmly, and then looked into his eyes.  
  
"If anything goes wrong for you, you can always trust me, no matter what."  
  
Kevin looked into her eyes and didn't know what to make of it. On the outside, the warm soft eyes stared back at him, but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that something may lie beneath.  
  
_"You can trust me."_  
  
Those words echoed in his thoughts. 


	8. Hired Gun

The van eventually parked itself on the curb just around the corner of Café Robina. The dank stench of Cubanocity fluttered itself about through the air. Catalina subtly covered her face a bit with her hand and face, to prevent an early exposure to the Cubans. One block away, in the parking lot of a decrepit old donut shop, a gleaming pink Virgo's engine stopped, and it's driver solidly held a .38 snub nose revolver in his left hand.  
  
Catalina was seconds from getting out of the car and storming the restaurant, when Kevin grabbed her by the wrist, holding her.  
  
"Don't go in the front door,"   
  
Catalina looked and glimpsed groups of heavily armed men sitting across from the main door. She grinned, and looked over at Kevin. He pointed over to a side alley.  
  
"There's a side door."  
  
Kevin, Catalina, and the two other hired men who came to be known as Jeff and Steve, both carefully navigated their way across the sidewalk, and found themselves at the entrance to the alley. The street was empty, four people with guns could do that to pedestrians. Across from them, at the end of the street, a man dressed in a cordouroy sky blue jacket and pastel slacks followed. His hairy chest stuck itself out from his shirt. He deftly and poorly hid his pistol inside his pocket, and briskly followed after the four up ahead.  
  
Kevin peeked into the alley, to check the pathway. No one stood, and it was a straightshot to the service entrance. Without warning, he heard the sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back. He stuck his head out from the alley, and saw a badly dressed man with four pints of spray in his back pocket and an apparent emergency bottle in his breast pocket. His hair was horrendous, a foor foot tall mullet peaked up into the sky, and you could break an egg on it, it was so rigid with hair treatment. He held his gun to Catalina's head, and ushered Kevin to put both hands out.   
  
This all occured quietly; the occupants of the café heard nothing.  
  
"Awright, put tha guns down, brightly." The man with a thick British accent said.  
  
"How the hell do I put a gun down 'brightly?'" Kevin snapped.  
  
"Just put 'de thing down!"  
  
Kevin smirked, placed his .45 down on the pavement, and gave permission to the others to follow.   
  
"Ya know tha's quite a price on ya head, mate." He said.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"The name's Paul, I'm from Kent in England." He suddenly turned dark and serious. Me friends call me Kent Paul, but you're not my friend."  
  
Without any hesitation, his aftershave soaked face reached over and kissed Catalina on the cheek. She swiftly kneed him appropiately, but her knee only hit a steel protective placement.  
  
"I think ahead, baby."  
  
"So who hired you?" Kevin quipped.  
  
"Well I got some major connections in the music business, I'm a big-time playa."  
  
Kevin and the others stood, waiting.  
  
"Awrght, it was Lazlow, the DJ, but you'd be surprised how big a playa he is! Now, if you'd be a hon and head into my mobile, we'll go somewhere quieter."  
  
"Lazlow sent you?"  
  
"Yep, licence to kill and all." Kent Paul giggled.  
  
"Why? I don't even know the guy."  
  
"Well, it seems you spottled his plans up a bit, so he's sent out fixer – me."  
  
Kent Paul leaned over once more and sucked on Catalina's nose strongly. This was his best chance, and Kevin took it.   
  
He first reached over and grabbed his moist hand and snapped it against his own knee. Paul shouted out in pain, and fired his revolver in frustration. The men in the café were alerted to their presence, and quickly took up arms. Kevin grabbed the Brit by the hair, stabbing his fingers on his follicles. In one swift movement, he thrusted Kent Paul and he was thrown headfirst directly into through the front door of the café.  
  
"Who the hell is this??" A thick Spanish voice said.  
  
"Hey, Umberto, it's a British guy!"  
  
"Hey, boys. Let's not get dainty!" Kent Paul pleaded.  
  
The restaurant was suddenly filled with huge flashes of light, seemingly thousands of gunshots were blasted, and the sounds of screaming filled the air. Kevin shouted over to Catalina.  
  
"Come on, this is our chance."  
  
They picked their weapons back up, and headed to the entrance. Jeff and Steve bravely stormed the front entrance, as Cat and Kevin went in through the side. Fifteen Cubans were inside the café, and they were surrounded on both sides. Kent Paul's bullet riddled body lie quiet on the blood stained floor.  
  
Across from them, a large burly man with a sweat-stained white T-shirt holding a Uzi 9mm looked menacingly towards them.   
  
"Kill 'dem!"  
  
He quickly grabbed three briefcases that lie on the table and ran for the exit. Kevin managed to send a bullet into his shin, but had to retreat behind a table to avoid the bullets. Jeff was quickly mowed down, a Cuban's MP5 had sent a swarm of hot lead bashing his head apart. Steve shot a few, but found his fate screaming at the end of a bullet piercing his skull. Catalina stood from the protection, and blasted away with her Desert Eagle. Three human being's lives end in an instant when her bullets of death came shattering into their bodies.  
  
Kevin took a Glock off from a corpse beside him, and got himself ready. A few moments later, he pulled a Chow-Yun Fat, he leapt out from behind the table, blasted away with his .45 and Glock. He soared through the air like a graceful birds, dodging bullets like raindrops. He sent four men screaming to hell embedded in lead, and managed to hit no more. He eventually landed on his side behind another table and reloaded. Catalina continued firing, and killed two more.  
  
Across from where Kevin sat, an unbenowst Cuban's leg stood. He smiled, and fired away at the shin. Moments later, the whole body fell, and the poor man's screams were deafened by the blasting gun. He reached over took the dead man's MP5 and stood up.  
  
He daringly ran straight across the open aisle of the café, and jumped into the air. He fired the MP5 and Colt .45 simeaultaneously the entire time. He crashed into the rack of spices against the wall, and took cover behind a toppled counter. Across the way, Catalina threw a sleek knife through the air, and caught a Cuban in the ear. Kevin poked his head up, and realized everyone was dead. 


	9. Tropic Hotel

He quickly reloaded, and headed outside. Faintly, he could hear the sounds of grunting. He walked around the corner, and found a half-opened garage, and a Umberto desperately trying to open it the entire way to make way for his high-performance Cuban Hermes. Finally, the garage creaked all the way open, and Umberto jumped into the car.  
  
"Come on, please start!!"  
  
Without warning, the engine roared to life, and the car sped out from the garage, just barely missing Kevin. Before he could try and retaliate, the car had left his sight.   
  
Back outside, Catalina had just left the café when the Hermes stormed past. She withdrew her Desert Eagle and began firing repeatedly. To her luck, the back left tire was blown out, and the vehicle quickly lost control. It smashed through the front entrance of a donut shop, and in the midst of the flying donut debris, the car horn sounded endlessly.  
  
Kevin walked out from the garage, and saw the wreckage and Catalina. She smiled, and jogged across the street to the totalled the car. Kevin followed close behind, and chewed on a donut that had flown out. Catalina tore the door open and threw Umberto onto his back on the street. His face was bruised and bloody, his clothing ragged.  
  
"You whimps, don'tchoo know who I am!?"  
  
Catalina smirked, and kicked his beaten body.  
  
Kevin came over, holding his .45; Catalina her Desert Eagle.   
  
"Please, the money's in the trunk, I give it to you, please!!"  
  
Kevin and Catalina raised their pistols, and pointed them straight down to Umberto's face.  
  
"Please, no!!"  
  
"Good night, Mr. Robina." Catalina hissed.  
  
"Poor guy . . ."   
  
The detective stood over what was left of Umberto Robina's corpse, as his car lie still smoking in the donut shop. Ambulances were scattered like leaves on an autumn day, and the crisp scent of death filled the air. As the photographers snapped their pictures, the detective headed across to Robina's café.  
  
"Wasn't he the biggest Cuban gangster in the city?" A lowly paramedic said, as he lifted his body.  
  
"Yup, he sure got what he deserved."  
  
Without warning, a voice pierced the air, sounding of positive energy.  
  
"Someone still alive!!" He shouted.  
  
The sharply dressed detective headed inside the café where the voice originated. Inside, three paramedics lie huddled around a single man who lie on the floor. The detective couldn't help but giggle when he saw the poor man's clothing. His mullet was rusted with blood, and he managed to only spit out a few sounds. He was covered with bullets, but the man managed to stay alive. Just like some bad '70s song.  
  
The paramedic noticed the man had a bullet embedded in his skull, almost guaranteeing brain damage. He seemed to be hanging by a thread to life. The detective reached over and patted the medic on the back.  
  
"Don't worry, he probably deserved it, too."  
  
The hustle and bustle of the crime scene continued, the trails of carnage skewered the area deep.  
  
The abandoned warehouse sat on the water, derelict. Inside, Cameron and his boys lie sleeping peacefully. Without warning, the main doors were thrown open, and the slender embodiement of a woman entered.  
  
"Did you get the money back?" Cameron shouted, his finger on his pistol's trigger.  
  
"Yeah, calm down. Here's your money."  
  
Catalina hurled two briefcases through the air, and they eventually landed at Cameron's feet.  
  
"There were three cases."  
  
"Hey, just be happy with two."  
  
Cameron remembered what happened to Catalina's past loves when she didn't enjoy them, and quickly calmed down. He returned inside his office, where his makeshift bed lie. He suspected there was something fishy about her. But in the end, he was just too scared to confront her.  
  
Across the way, Catalina herself went to her usual nighttime pleasure -- Greg. He lie asleep on his pathetically made bed, sleeping quietly through the night. He was startled awake when he felt her soft gentle hands rubbing against his thighs. He opened his eyes, and saw her glimmering beautiful face looking back, peacefully.  
  
"Hey . . ." He whispered tiredly.  
  
"Shhh, go back to sleep."  
  
Greg rolled over to his side, and obeyed orders. Catalina smirked, and stroked his thigh once more, all the while taking his wallet out and stealing every dollar she found. 


	10. Dangerous Risk

Kevin slowly trudged out from the cab, and found himself at the foot of the VRock headquarters. He paid the driver, and stepped up to it's main doorway. Without warning, screeching tires were heard, and the sound of a Bobcat driving steadily emanted. Kevin looked down a nearby alley, and saw just that; a burly Bobcat storming down the pavement. He looked closer and saw Lazlow, a thick fearful look spread across his face like jelly.

Kevin withdrew his .45, and aimed stealthily. By the time Lazlow noticed him standing there aiming his gun, it was too late. Shots rang out, and a moment later the sound of glass shattering filled the dank air. Kevin heard the sound of cursing, and grinned. The Bobcat's windshield was blown out, and the car had crashed into a cluster of dumpsters.

The door popped open, and Lazlow's battered body crawled out once again.

"I just got that windshield fixed!!" He moaned.

Kevin stood above him, holding a sleek briefcase in one hand and a pistol in the other. Lazlow looked up at him, squinting in the sunlight, and groaned at the sight of Kevin's smile.

"You still want your money?" He said, gesturing to the briefcase.

"No, please, keep it, just don't--"

Kevin walked around the side of the car and found Lazlow's belongings in the bed. Without warning, the sounds of sirens filled the air -- the cops were coming from Lazlow.

"Aw, come on, man. Keep the money, just let me go. You'll never hear of me again!"

Kevin popped the case open, and saw the dollar bills lying inside, attractively. He then looked down at Lazlow. He lie, scratched and bloody, in a heap of his own failure. Kevin took the briefcase and threw it down at the battered man before him.

"Take your money and go."

Lazlow smiled, and slowly got to his feet. He managed to stuff as many bills back into the case before he climbed back into his car.

"Hey, maybe you'll hear me again sometime!"

The Bobcat's wheel spun out, and the truck quickly stormed down the alley and disappeared from sight. Kevin got himself another taxi, and started head back to his temporary home at the Tropic Hotel. He realized that only day had passed since he had left Vercetti Estate. He plopped himself on the seat, gave the destination, and sat back listening to the sounds from the radio.

"Earlier today, a massive gang war erupted in the heart of Little Havana.Believed to involve the Cuban gangs, only one survivor in the shootout was found inside Robina's Café. It was no Cuban, folks, a British man was rushed to Ocean View hospital for treatment. Police have not disclosed his name. He is reported to have suffered major brain damage has a result."

"Man, this city is going straight down the drain . . ." The Spanish taxi-driver said.

Kevin cared for a moment of the news of the survivor, then lost his train of thought. The cab pulled up to the front of the hotel, Kevin paid the driver, and headed inside. Night fall had cloaked the city from head to foot, and the stars revealed themselves from high up in the sky. He headed up through the elevator, trying to ignore the tinny music on the ride. Eventually, he reached the fourth floor, and he gently stepped out. He entered Miguel and his room, and placed his .45 onto a glass table in the corner. In the other room, he heard the sound of annoying sounds emenating from the TV.

He looked, and found Miguel sitting on a couch playing on his Atari, which he just happened to bring along with him. He walked past him, and began searching through their refrigerator.

"Yo, man. How was your day?" Miguel said.

"I don't know." He replied.

"Yeah, I bet."

Kevin pulled out a bottle of milk and drank it, only to find it was a few weeks old. Miguel laughed as he spat the contents out into the sink.

"Good, huh?"

Kevin threw the bottle into the garbage recepticle, and sat down on the chair across from Miguel.

"Hey, yo, 'at Vercetti guy called me up. Says he wants us to come over first thing in the morning."

Kevin ran his hand through his air, and brushed the tiredness from his eyes. Miguel looked over at him, annoyed with his uncaring behavior. Kevin sat in the chair, staring at the television screen, watching the blips zip around. In the back of his mind, he knew that tomorrow would be a busy day. 


	11. Original Intention

The dream was calm, pleasant. Kevin was standing in the front hallway of his house, the sounds of his children laughing filled the gentle air. His daughters ran up to their father, and embraced him lovingly. His son, wobbled up to the man, and then hugged him tenderly around his leg. Kevin knelt down, and savored every minute he received their love. His wife stood at the end of this hallway, smiling. As he always did, Kevin held two of his kids in his arms, and the other held on to his back. He walked up to his woman, and gave her a loving, warm kiss.

Then the dream ended.

Salvatore Leone sat at his desk, staring coldly at the man before him. . The dark, murky town of Liberty City enthroned the area like a band-aid from Hell, enveloping them in darkness, yet binding them as well. It was the early morning of tomorrow. The moment Salvatore learned the news, he brought his consultant down from Harwood to have a meeting. His consultant, Warren Jeffries, stood in his usual bussiness manner, his freshly pressed suit crisp and inviting. Outside, the dark night ensued, the stars above like beacons of small hope.

"I just don't see why we're going so far. . ." Warren began.

"He's making me look like a fool!" Sal shouted.

"How do you know he even did it?" Warren replied.

"Hell, police reports indicate a man with 'black aviator jacket and green pants' was seen there."

Warren sighed, and leaned against the wall. Salvatore cursed, and stood up from his chair.

"That man has been causing problems ever since he got down there!"

"He gets busted for anything he's done, give him a nice bargain, and boom! The family would be ruined by just one man!"

Warren saw the sense in it, but couldn't see the honor. Warren's back was against a wall, literally and metaphorically. He knew he couldn't turn down the big man of the Mafia, and lamented.

"Alright, what do you want me to do?"

"Get on the phones, and start calling people."

"I want every single person he ever knew to be dead, murdered, wasted. He thinks he can go down and tthere and start blasting up a café? I don't want him to even exist!!"

"Send Giuseppe and his boys to Kevin's house, and make sure he won't cause any more trouble. Make sure he disappears off the face of the planet!"

"When this is all over, I don't want to even remember him!!!"

Warren sighed at finally ending the conflict and headed out the door. Salvatore's blood pumped in his veins, and he sat back down in his chair.

The phone rang suddenly, piercing Kevin's sleep. He slowly rose to his feet, aching from the day before. He poked his head out the window and saw that it was the earliest in the morning. Sunlight had just began to scrape the night sky, and created a pinkish black aurora. He slowly managed to find the phone amidst his sleepiness, and brought it to his ear.

"Kevin, wait--" A scream cut the voice off.

Kevin recognized the voice, it was Catalina.

"Well, look who I just happened to find, buddy." Another voice came on, even more familiar.

It was Vercetti.

"You won't believe what happened. Me and my boys come down to this warehouse to teach them Sharks a lesson for yesterday. And what do you know, these Sharks are telling me that one of my own boys were working with them!" He laughed.

"They said, and this is under heavy torture, of course, that one of my own men were working with this little Spanish lady

"Seems you've been doing quite a bit yesterday, haven't you?"

"Hell, did you need money bad enough to start working for the gang that's against me?? I can see you pick the right people to work with, though."

Catalina's voice shouted in the background furiously.

"We weren't working with the Sharks!!" She yelled in the background.

Vercetti audibly took to phone away from his mouth and shouted back,

"Who were you working for, huh? A radio DJ? Hah!"

He brought the phone back to his mouth. "To make this short and simple, come to the south docks by the old tanker barge at 7 with that hard earned money you got yesterday, or you can say good-bye to your little Spanish lady."

Moments before the phone was hung up, Kevin managed to hear one last thing.

"Someone find Cameron, and make sure he's dead!"

Silence. 


	12. Deadline

Miguel had just managed to climb out from his bed, and he barely looked awake. He noticed Kevin was working about with a literal arsenal of weapons spread out onto the table. M-16s, MP5s, grenades, a M79 grenade launcher, Ingram Mac 10s, and of course a Colt .45.

"Is that the stuff Sal gave you? How'd you get that stuff past airport security?"

Kevin ignored him, and began loading each weapon.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Vercetti has Catalina, he's going to kill her."

"Catalina? What were you doing yesterday?"

"Look, me and her are friends, I can't just let him kill her."

Kevin slung the M79 around his shoulder, and strapped the M-16 around his back. He placed his Colt .45 into it's side holster and placed some grenades onto his belt. And he lastly holstered a pump-action shotgun into a specially made holster on his side.

"I thought you were married. . ." Miguel murmured.

Kevin shouted angrily, "Hey, I haven't exactly been doing the nicest things working for the Mafia, have I!?"

Miguel was silent.

"Did you ever think it might feel good to do something right while I'm in this screwed up city?"

Miguel could only sigh, and began loading his Beretta. "Well, if you're going against them guys, you'll probably need some help." He laughed.

Suddenly, the phone rang once more, stabbing the silent room with unprecedented fierceness. Kevin looked at it, and picked it up. To his surprise, on the other end was Salvatore.

"Kevin."

"Sal."

"There's been a slight change of plans ." Salvatore's voice seemed rigid, almost conniving.

"Look, you, don't have to kill Vercetti after all."

"What?"

"You haven't killed him yet, have you?" Sal retorted.

"Well, no. We're in the middle of negotiations." Kevin was struggling.

"Yeah, we don't need such a big war between us and Vercetti, you know."

"We got you some tickets, you'll be home by tomorrow."

The phone was hung up as quickly as it rang, and silence filled every inch of the room.

"Who was 'at?" Miguel said.

"Salvatore, he said we don't have to take him out after all. We can go home."

"Great, when can we leave?"

Kevin's eyes turned over at Miguel, piercing. He withdrew his shotgun, and aimed it at Miguel.

"We came down here to kill Vercetti."

He pumped the shotgun.

"Now let's do it." 


	13. Warzone

6:30

Death filled the warm air as Kevin and Miguel stepped outside. While Kevin had been gone the day before, Miguel had rented a car. It wasn't much however, a 1983 Sentinel. Kevin climbed into the driver's seat, Miguel the passenger side. The radio was turned to VRock, heavy metal music blared through the speakers.

The Sentinel cruised itself down Ocean Drive, on a one-way trip to the docks.

6:32am

Greg cowered inside the locker, sweating profusely from the dank air. He peeked out from the small grate, and saw them standing there, just as they had been for the entire morning. Vercetti stood tall, holding a Colt Python in his hand. Catalina stood held strongly by three armed men, against her will clearly.

"I guess you didn't know exactly where that money was going, did you?" Vercetti said to Catalina.

"Why would I?" She replied.

"Well, when you stole that money, it was in the middle of a deal with my own men, you didn't see that did you?"

Catalina remembered that many of them involved were wearing Hawaiian shirts.

"You and your little goonies stole sixty-one million dollars that were mine. I guess you didn't bother counting the money you had? Do you know what happened to the last one who screwed over one of my deals?" Catalina squirmed in Vercetti's firm grasp.

"I hope you can understand my agitation in this matter."

That night had been the worst night in Greg's life. Greg had awokened early that night and realized Catalina was practically burgalarizing him. He wanted to confront her, but at the last minute, her soft beautiful face told him otherwise. Vercetti stormed the place in the Shark's sleep, wielded a massive chain gun, and demolished every single person in the warehouse. Bodies, blood, and guts sprayed through the air like an apocalyptic rain.

That night was the only night Greg was glad he slept in the corner of the warehouse. He had quickly hid inside a nearby locker, and then climbed down a storm drain, and escaped Vercetti's hellish rain of bullets. He lie in the locker for three hours, his friend's corpses decomposing in front of him. Greg wasn't sure who was luckier, Cameron or himself. Apparently, Vercetti was in a big hullabaloo that Cameron wasn't in the warehouse.

Greg would give anything to escape the locker, to escape the warehouse. The smell of dead flesh nauseated him, and he had already passed out from the stench three times throughout the night cramped inside the locker. Now, he could only sit and wait until Vercetti's gang would leave.

6:44

"Where is he?" Vercetti hissed.

The leader of the biggest gang in Vice City stood boldly. The Python in his hand glistened sternly in the morning light, it's barrel of death hung uncaringly.

"So how's the business been?" She said.

"Hey, shut up.."

The armed men holding Catalina strengthened their grip, Catalina shouted in pain. Vercetti checked his watch, grimly.

"In fifteen minutes, your little friend will be the stuff on the bottom of my shoe."

"My own employee starts working in a gang against me? Hah, I'd like to see him escape from me."

Catalina rolled her eyes, and ignored the pain from the men holding her.

"Don't worry, at 7 o'clock, you won't be working for anyone anymore."

6:48

"You do realize what you're doing, right?" Miguel argued.

Kevin said nothing, he kept his eyes on the road.

"Vercetti probably has all his men at the docks, waiting for you."

"You come within fifty feet of that place, and he probably has a sniper to take you out."

Kevin stayed silent.

"I can respect how you wanna do something good, but come on. And hey, you don't even have the money he wants!"

"Hey, That Catalina is the only friend I've ever made while I've been a part of this Mafia." Kevin suddenly retorted.

"Come on, man, let's just go, Salvatore said we can."

The car stopped suddenly on the curb, the engine turned off.

"If you don't want to do this, then get out of the car and head home right now."

Miguel sat in the seat, worried.

"Alright, man, if you want to do this that bad, then I'm with you."

6:52

Vercetti stood at the edge of the far dock, watching as the pristine water drifted itself through the bay. Across from them, the massive oil tanker barge stood dauntingly in the water, casting a grim shadow over all that stood.

"It's a pretty day, isn't it?" He said.

"Yeah, boss, it sure i--" The henchman's voice was cutoff with a gunshot.

Vercetti shot the man in the eye with his Colt Python, and his lifeless body splashed into the water.

"It was a rhetorical question."

Vercetti and his men stood outside, in the blaring hot sun of the morning, as the docks, cargo boxes, ships, boats and all else that applies floated about. The pavement sizzled with heat, and the reflections off the men's sunglasses pierced the blue sky.

6:57

The drab Sentinel found itself at the front gate of the Vice City Dock Compound. A heavy steel lock hung from it's hinge, preventing access with a menacing boldness. Kevin stuck his right hand out from the car, and blasted the lock apart with his .45. The gate swung open, clanging against the far wall, and the car slowly drove. Without warning, a thudding bullet smacked into the car's hood, sending sparks flying.

"I told you there'd be a sniper!!" Miguel shouted.

High up on an abandoned refinery rooftop, a single man armed with a large rifle stood, unwavering. Kevin floored the gas pedal, drove forward, and then spun the car out perfectly behind a cluster of cargo containers. He jumped out from the car and popped the trunk. From there, he slapped open a sleek leather case, and withdrew from inside his own PSG-1. Miguel brushed his hand against the M79.

"Wouldn't it be easier with this?" He said.

Kevin ignored him, and positioned himself in between two tall boxes. He put his eye through the scope, and scanned the rooftops above. There, the sniper stood, analyzing the area just like Kevin, desperately trying to find where his opposition could be from behind the cluster of crates. Kevin put the crosshairs directly onto him, and waited.

"Yo, you got a shot?" Miguel asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Well? Take it!!"

Without warning, he changed the position of the crosshairs and fired. A huge fireball resulted, sending a stinging blast of fire and shrapnel exploding into the air. The bullet had pierced an industrial oxygen tank that lie beside the sniper, sending him to a fiery fate. Miguel stared at the explosion high above.

"I thought you wanted the element of surprise?" Miguel said, climbing back into the car.

Kevin got in and slammed the door shut.

"Fuck surprise."

The car sped off, hurtling itself into the core of the complex. Kevin checked his watch, noting the time.

7:00am - The deadline 


	14. Final Battle

Vercetti heard the sounds of the screeching tires first, then everyone else did. He looked towards the north gate, and saw a beat up Sentinel crash through the metal fence, and begin opening fire. From the vehicle, a thick spray of bullets splashed outwards, sending nuggets of lead smashing into human flesh. Vercetti grabbed Catalina as a human shield, and backed away deeper into the maze of docking platforms and old refineries.

Kevin scanned the area, checking their oppposition. High upon the rooftops of the massive abandoned refinery, a cluster of snipers stood blasting away at the vehicle with their rifles. He aimed upwards, and blasted away with an MP5. Miguel was from the other side of the vehicle, and shot away with his Beretta at the men on the ground.

Throughout the area, at least twenty men armed with Ruger assault rifles were scattered about the place. They fired relentlessly, uncaring of their own lives or the civilian's around them. Kevin saw a cluster of four men near the water's edge, and gunned the Sentinel directly towards them.

"Miguel, get out of the car."

Before Miguel could protest, Kevin reached over, opened the door, and threw him out. A few seconds later, Kevin leapt from inside the vehicle, and whacked onto the warm concrete below. The Sentinel raced forward, but to Kevin's dismay, it completely missed the men he was aiming for. Instead, it crashed directly into a large propane resevoir.

A huge wave of liquid propane poured out from the gash in the tank the Sentinel had caused, drenching Vercetti's men. Kevin slowly stood, and fired his .45 unforgivingly towards the splashing liquid. The liquid instantly caught fire, and a barrage of flames and fire smashed throughout the air. The men screamed in pain, but they were drastically cut short when the tank itself exploded.

Bodies flew through the air, smashed into walls, and whacked against the ground. The explosion gently brewed itself down to a large fire, but Kevin knew there were still more enemies to be found. He quickly dove behind a cement pillar for cover, and withdrew a M-16, loaded and ready to go. He poked his head out, and saw a single man glimpsing fleetingly, trying to find his enemies. Kevin aimed the machine gun outwards, and fired a single bullet.

He couldn't help but smile when he saw the man's head literally explode.

Miguel, full of fear and indecision, blasted a few potshots at whatever opportunity he had. He his cautiously behind a group of cargo boxes, fearing for his own life. Without warning, a burly Italian man suddenly reached from around the boxes and put a gun to his Spanish head. Miguel knew that in just one instant, he would be dead.

Without warning, a gunshot was heard, but it was not the sign of Miguel's death. Instead, the man holding the gun to his head slowly dropped to the ground, dead. A bullet hole spewed blood in the back of his head. Miguel fearfully looked around, and saw Kevin and his weapon across the platform, looking over at him.

Having a new found understanding of his enemy, Miguel stood with his machine gun and opened fire. He boldly ran across the open field of cargo containers and ship supplies, blasting his gun all the way. He cracked the stock of his gun against one of his enemy's skulls, and before he hit the ground in a daze pumped a few rounds into his collapsing body. An Italian barricading himself behind a grouping of boxes fired away at Miguel. He retaliated via shooting through the wooden boxes and killing the man who thought he'd be protected behind them.

Bullets rained down from every direction as Kevin sped from one point of cover to another. One of the goons fired with his M-4. Kevin ducked behind a cargo container, hearing the bullets bashing into the opposite end. Five men now concentrated their attacks onto him, their machine guns unrelenting. Suddenly, Kevin dove out from behind his hiding spot, fired a few shots with his M-16, and dove behind a parked truck. The bullets smashed into a large diesel fuel resevoir, resulting in a massive explosion that rocked the entire area. The explosion distracted Kevin's attackers, as they took cover to avoid the flying wreckage. Kevin stormed out, fired two shots with his shotgun, and killed all five.

There was now a massive pile of flames and twisted burning metal blazing high into the air that sent ripples of smoldering heat everywhere. Kevin realized that if the gunfire wouldn't attract the authorities, this immense heap of fiery metal certainly would. The intense morning sun poured heat down onto everything, giving everything a hazy, blurred aura. Kevin suspected Vercetti would be bunkered down at the south end of the docks, near the tanker barge where he would have the most protection from gunfire and sorts. Standing boldly high up in the sky, emanating from it ocean throne, the gigantic tanker barge loomed high up ahead.

Bullets just barely whizzed past Kevin's head, and he saw his attackers were closing in quickly. He fired away with the shotgun, but was hampered by the dozens of cargo containers lining the area. With his back against a steel crate, his enemies blasting away behind him, Kevin saw Miguel up ahead sneaking past the gunfire. Miguel saw his friend being pinned down, and quickly took action. He carefully snuck up behind one of the attacking men, grabbed him from behind, put his gun to his back and fired twice. The man went limp, and Miguel quickly took his M-4.

He now stood, and opened fire onto Kevin's oppressors. Most were quickly mowed down, the rest ducked and took cover. Kevin poked his head up from behind the crate, and saw the top of one of the men's heads sticking out above from his protective crate. He could hear him reloading his weapon quickly. Kevin looked and saw a chunk of burning metal lying next to him. He quickly picked the wedge of flaming steel, and hurled it through the air, until it eventually found itself thrusting itself into the man's cranium.

Kevin now reloaded his own M-16, and stood back up. Miguel fired away at the rest of men with his new M-4, and Vercetti's men were quickly dwindling. Kevin grabbed three grenades and pulled their pins simultaneously, and threw them in all different directions. A moment later, three fireballs rose high into the air, and the screams of dying men filled the air.

Kevin scanned the area, looking for more of his opposition. But to his surprise, the area was silent. Except for the thrashing flames from the destroyed fuel resevoir, the gunshots had stopped. A sick sort of serene tranquility overlapped the area. 

Having taken out all of Vercetti's men, Kevin regrouped with Miguel and went to search for Vercetti himself.

Greg slowly creaked the locker door open, and stepped out into the sunlight. He heard had heard the gunshots and explosions, and hoped for some reason that maybe the police had arrived. He withdrew from his pocket his trusted Glock, and headed outside, to find out what was going on. He carefully navigated past the dead corpses that littered the street like dandelions on a warm summer day. He exited the warehouse, and saw the huge mass of carnage before him. Murdered bodies lay sprawled over the ground, massive flames rose high into the air, and above all of this, the soothing blue sky hung serenely. He then looked to the water's edge, and saw Vercetti, holding a Python to Catalina's head and shouting into a walkie-talkie.

"Just bring the freaking chopper!!" He screamed.

He turned his attention back to Catalina. "So I guess your friend doesn't feel like giving the money back?"

Greg quietly crept around behind a cluster of boxes, and slowly walked a few feet behind the Vercetti, who was busy keeping Catalina in line. He aimed the Glock, shakily, and spoke. "Let her go, man,"

Vercetti heard his voice, and slowly turned around, dragging Catalina with him. He smirked at the fearful boy, holding the gun, and began laughing. Greg said nothing, but pulled the hammer back on the gun.

"I said let her go."

Vercetti stopped laughing, and his face suddenly took his twisted form. In an instant, he raised the gun up to fire. Greg was faster, and he blasted a single bullet, and a thick mist of blood gently spittled into the air.

Vercetti shouted in pain, the bullet had pierced him in the left forearm. He quickly knocked the Glock out of Greg's hands, and sent it splashing into the water. He then smiled, and raised his Colt Python to Greg's forehead. And with a menacing grin, andore Greg could try to escape, he fired the revolver, sending a bullet smashing into his brain.

Kevin had just entered the same dock platform as Vercetti, and saw the young man drop to the floor, blood spewing from his skull. Catalina fought with Vercetti, he still held her firmly on her left hand. Kevin raised his .45, and aimed for Vercetti's head. Tommy looked and saw Kevin and Miguel, and quickly pulled Catalina and held her in front of him as a shield.

"Come on, big guy, I'm your employer," Vercetti shouted. 


	15. Aerial Combat

Kevin looked for a shot, but Tommy held Catalina perfectly in front of every part of his body that he might want to hit. Suddenly, a deep thumping was heard, and the wind began to pick up. The people looked up high, and saw a single helicopter high above in the air, coming down to land.

Miguel stood, worried, he had tried to be involved as little as possible. Vercetti smiled, and brought his Python up to aim. Before he could fire at his two enemies, a person leapt off from a rooftop high above, and tackled Vercetti onto the hot concrete. Catalina escaped from her captor's grasp, and ran over to Miguel. Tommy shook the dizziness from his head, and realized that Cameron now lie on top of him, punching him relentlessly.

"Don't have your little drones with you now, huh?"

Cameron punched Vercetti in the jaw, and a spittle of blood trickled out from his mouth. Vercetti smiled, and raised his Python up to try and fire. Cameron grabbed it forcefully, and threw it out from his grasp. He then headbutted him forcefully, and then commenced to punch him thickly in the temple. Vercetti spat a gob of blood out from his battered mouth, and managed to speak a few words in between Cameron's punches.

"Hey, Cameron, you're a Shark, right?" He said.

Cameron stopped, and stared at Vercetti. His cold dark eyes looked back at him unwavering, and the thick droplets of blood that lie spattered about his face shone crimson red. It was then he felt the cold barrel of a sawed-off shotgun touching his chest.

"Sharks are supposed to sleep with the fish."

Without warning, Vercetti fired, and Cameron's body was sent hurtling into the air, blood gurgling out from the huge wound in his chest. His body spun like a sickened rag doll, and eventually splashed into the blue, bright water. Vercetti slowly got back to his feet, battered and bloodied. He cracked his neck forebodingly, and spun the shotgun around in his fingers.

Kevin had ran to try and help Cameron, but was too late. Vercetti had hidden a shotgun holster behind his suit jacket, and utilized it to murder Cameron. He smiled sickeningly, and looked to the sky as the helicopter neared closer. Across from them, Cameron's body floated face down in the water, the water glowing red. Greg lie to Vercetti's left, blood still seeping from the hole in his head. Kevin knew that Vercetti had only one shell left in the shotgun, and he needed to utilize it.

"Come on, Kev, it's only me and you now." Verceti said.

He raised the shotgun, and blasted it towards Miguel. He missed, and Miguel was so frightened he sped away from the area and back to the main road. Faintly, the sounds of police sirens could be heard. Vercetti was out of ammo, and quickly began to reload. Kevin threw off his other weapons, and charged his enemy.

Vercetti hurriedly put two more shells into his shotgun, and snapped it shut. Kevin raised his .45 and began firing. Tommy leapt behind a nearby concrete wall, taking cover. Kevin continued to fired at him, only to expend all of his ammunition. Vercetti grinned when he heard the clicking of an empty gun, and noticed the helicopter was only a few hundred feet away. He got to his feet, and boldly aimed his shotgun at Kevin.

He blasted away, and a thick cloud of pellets shot out from the barrel and bashed into the wall. Kevin managed to duck behind an old garage door, but he couldn't avoid the hit he suffered. He shouted out in pain, blood emitted from his left leg, sending a searing hot pain throughout his entire body. The helicopter had now landed, and Vercetti quickly climbed inside. Kevin got back to his feet, aching in pain. The helicopter rose up off the ground and slowly began to fly away.

Kevin ran with all his speed towards it, and leapt into the air. He reached out with his hand, and just before the chopper flew out of reach, he grabbed onto the landing treads. Vercetti poked his head out into the warm morning air, and saw Kevin hanging on valiantly. He smiled, and reached into the back of the helicopter.

Kevin looked and found himself staring down the barrel of a fresh Colt Python, pointed between his eyes.

"Didn't think it would end like this, did you?" He sneered. 


	16. The Victor

Kevin reached out just before the trigger was pulled, and knocked the barrel away. The bullet shot through the air, just barely missed his head, and smacked into the concrete below. Kevin now, hanging with one hand from the bottom of the helicopter, reached up and puched Vercetti, knocking him backwards in the helicopter. Kevin hoisted himself up with all his strength, and climbed into the main compartment of the chopper. The pilot looked and saw the man who had just climbed into the helicopter, and went to fir at him with a .38. Kevin grabbed the pilot's wrist, twisted the gun away, and then turned his attention back to Vercetti.

Tommy regained his composure, and attacked. Kevin went to fire with his new found .38, but Vercetti tackled him and his head cracked against the unforgiving metal of the helicopter floor. The pilot now returned his attention to flying the aircraft, and could not help Vercetti now. Kevin kneed his enemy in the stomach, and threw him off his chest. Tommy collided with the back of the chopper, and lunged once more for Kevin. He struck him full in the chest, and he was thrusted back into the pilot's seat. The helicopter banked sharply, and the two now slid straight down towards the open hatch.

Vercetti stopped himself by grabbing onto a passenger seat, but Kevin fell straight out of the helicopter, but managed to grab onto the landing treads once more. The helicopter corrected itself, and continued to fly normally. Vercetti reached into his suit jacket, and withdrew a sleek 6 inch blade. He poked his head out through into the air.

"Didn't this just happen?" He said.

He reached down his right hand, and slashed away at Kevin fingers as they grappled onto the warm metal. He shouted in pain, and now Vercetti raised the knife high, preparing to deal the final blow.

At the last possible second, against all he had fought for, Kevin let go off the metal, and fell from the sky. Vercetti smiled, and ordered the pilot to head out. Kevin soared through the air for a seemingly infinite time, until his back smacked hard against the sheet-metal of a warehouse's roof. He tried to get up, but only slipped and began sliding down. Dazed and confused, the next moment he found himself lying back on the concrete. He had rolled off the various awnings of the building and landed on the ground.

In the air, seemingly so close, the helicopter was in the air. Without warning, Kevin saw Vercetti stand at the open hatch, and aim a massive minigun outwards. He quickly got to his feet and started running, and a horrendous torrent of lead and hot bullets spewed through the air like a hose from Hell. Kevin quickly lept behind a cluster of cargo boxes, avoiding the blaze. To his fortune, the weapons he had thrown away previously lying a few inches away. 


	17. End Game

"I want that prick dead!!" Vercetti shouted at the pilot.

The helicopter banked sharply, and turned itself around. Eventually, Vercetti would find himself staring at the other side of those boxes, directly at Kevin. He waited in great anticipation, holding his itchy finger onto the trigger. It was only a few moments before Kevin would be in his plain sight, and then a great flood of blood would spray into the air.

The helicopter turned, and Vercetti saw Kevin. He had expected that. Vercetti didn't expect, however, to see Kevin aiming a grenade launcher towards the chopper.

"This is how it ends!!"

And with a pull of a trigger, Vercetti realized that it all was over. His great industry, the protection services, the money, the killing, all over. The grenade that Kevin launched was like the letter of death, to inform him of the end of his life. It all seemed to go in slow motion, almost. The grenade soared through the air beautifully, heading directly towards the helicopter. A gentle wisp of smoke and flames followed behind. He found it was strange, how someone could be so happy that he was going to die.

The last thing Vercetti thought was hoping he would die quickly.

Kevin almost thought it wasn't real, that it was fake. The explosion was almost too large; too grand. The helicopter exploded in a magnificent fireball that sent visible shockwaves throughout the air. Cargo on the nearby tanker was blown off and splashed into the water, and cars below on the ground tipped and crashed onto their sides as a result. Fire erupted from every single crevice imaginable on the aircraft, and an awe-inspiring mushroom cloud of fire and smoke spread through the air like apocalyptic fireworks.

The helicopter fell from the sky, a limp mass of flaming steel. The scorched shell of the craft smashed onto the hard concrete below, and huge chunks of fiery shrapnel and metal soared through the air upon impact. Kevin stood, boldly, and watched as the helicopter before him burned necessantly. Suddenly, a gold object dropped to the ground in front of him. He looked and saw it was Vercetti's gold watch, still crisp and shiny.

Kevin tossed the grenade launcher aside, and brushed the hot ash from his clothing. He walked up to what was left of the still burning helicopter, and saw a gruesome sight inside. Inside, he saw the pilot's burning carcass, a shocked look still spread across his face. In the back, Kevin realized Vercetti's grim fate. The grenade had apparently hit Vercetti's body head on, because only a small portion of his arms and legs still remained intact and smoldering inside the chassis of the chopper.

He slowly turned away from the wreckage, and saw Miguel and Catalina waiting near the road, with a nearly jacked bright blue Washington, idly sitting on the curb. He headed out from the wasteland that was the docks, and got inside the car.

"So where we going?" Miguel said.

Kevin said nothing for a moment, then spoke while looking up at the sky.

"We're going home." 


	18. Prologue

Prologue

After almost two days of driving, the Washington found itself parked on the sidewalk of Kevin's house in St. Mark's in Liberty City. Catalina had come along with them, her Colombian Cartel was just starting to make a name for itself in Liberty. Miguel drove the car off, back to his place, and Kevin quietly opened the door of his house and entered.

It was early morning, his family probably was still asleep. He swiftly ran his hand through his air, and headed through the main hallway of his house. He was still formulating reasons to give his kids as to why he'd been gone. For some strange reason, a feeling of dread swept through the house. Kevin did not know why, but quickly realized when he noticed the smell. Kevin's heart sank, the smell was the stench of death.

He ran through his house, screaming in fear. He stormed into his children's room, and found the grisly sight. All three of kids, all three young, innocent children, lie tossed in a heap. The three of them had first been shot cleanly in the forehead, and then were eviscerated in a orderly, professional way. Their bodies lie in the center of the room, their insides were splashed throughout the walls.

Kevin could say nothing, he quickly took his eyes away from the sight, moaning in horror. He slowly trudged through the main hallway of his residence, and slowly creaked the door open to his wife and his bedroom. The sight inside could only be defined as pure horror.

He burst into tears, and slammed the door to his bedroom, shouting in frustration. He reached into his jacket, withdrawing his .45. He fired the pistol repeatedly throughout his house, shattering family portraits, mirrors, and beautiful paintings that hung on the wall.

He screamed continuously in frustration, and he momentarily feared for his sanity. He walked out of his house, and staggered through the dark city for seemingly hours on end. Somehow, he found himself knocking on the door of Miguel's house. Miguel and Catalina took him in, putting him under their trust, and there he would reside.

For the next twelve years, Kevin lived with Miguel and Catalina, and from there, they resided in a practical existence. They would now be employed for the Colombian Cartel, and would do various oddjobs despite the fact Kevin cared little for life now. He could never go to the authorities about his family, he was now a wanted man for his doings in Vice City. The two he now lived with were his last friends, the only people he could ever trust.

It was during the bank robbery he had worked alongside with them that the final straw was pulled. Miguel and Catalina double-crossed him, took the money for themselves, and left him for dead. It had seemed the Cartel was offering them too much money to remain affiliated with just some regular guy. To Catalina, he now was just small time, and shooting him outside of that bank was only business for her. It was after that event, when he was taken into prison, that he knew his life was nothing. He mind became a blank empty space, his only thought became revenge.

Every person he'd known, his father, Salvatore, Catalina, Miguel, Lazlow, even Vercetti, he had placed his belief and trust within. They then proceeded to go against him, as if the world was all one massive grinning fiend against him. It was as if the universe opened up, and screwed him over. Being taken into prison after Catalina and Miguel betrayed him was not the end.

It was only the beginning. 


End file.
